


Kaner Lays the Pipe

by coggs



Series: Patrick Kane: Sex God [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 05:38:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coggs/pseuds/coggs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick Kane had to suck a lot of dick to get Jonny to take him seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow the idea of "what if Patrick Kane was unexpectedly good in bed?" became this monster. I just wanted to make jokes about competitive rimming I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. 
> 
> Absolutely nothing about this is accurate in any way whatsoever at all. 
> 
> Thanks to [S-Pod](http://archiveofourown.org/users/four_right_chords) for letting me entertain her, and then editing her entertainment, and then tricking me into posting it on the internet.

It's when Jonny unexpectedly wakes up at 6 AM that he realizes he has two horrible choices: he can slink away in abject humiliation, or he can try to go back to sleep, hope that Patrick is down for morning sex, and _then_ slink away in abject humiliation. Because even though he clearly remembers every single step that got him into Patrick's bed (including some ill-advised shots and a bad taco), he's still baffled and frustrated and annoyed by the whole thing. And the more he thinks about it, sort of furious.

Patrick has always failed at subtlety in any way whatsoever, so it’s obvious he’s been into Jonny for years. And last night Jonny was riding a winning high, and a game high, and just an everything-being-awesome high, so he decided that he was finally going to let Pat sleep with him. When he made the decision at the bar he was half-cringing, half-thrilled. It was going to be sex with Pat, who Jonny was shamefully and weirdly into. But it was also going to be sex with Pat, walking human disaster. It was going to be - _supposed_ to be - awful. Jonny was going to pity-fuck Pat, and maybe his horrible feelings would go away and Pat would stop being weirdly attractive.

It was a really, really good plan. It was going to solve everything, and Jonny would get a so-so orgasm on top of that. He would make sure of it.

But while lying awake at 6 AM trying to decide if he should leave or hope for round two, Jonny has to admit that the plan has been an absolute failure. Because Patrick Kane - _Patrick Kane_ , of the ill-fitting _everything_ , complete lack of rhythm, and chronic inability to keep anything in his mouth (he drools sometimes, Jonny has seen it) - is the best sex Jonny has ever had.

Not only that, he is clearly way, way, way better at sex than Jonny.

Fuck.

* * *

Before the pity-fuck plan, Jonny and Patrick had kissed exactly once. They were rookies, and Pat was, even then, clearly into Jonny. Jonny was young, and Pat was always there and smiling, and ... Jonny's only human, okay? He had looked at Pat in their hotel room and just _wanted_ , so he walked over and kissed him.

Jonny had heard about bad kissing. Jonny had even experienced some, via drunken TJ Oshie. But when people talked about bad kissing, he’d kind of assumed they were exaggerating. Even the worst, drunken, most-TJ-Oshie kisses Jonny had ever gotten were okay. They were still kissing, and kissing was still, ultimately, fun. And usually people found their groove, and bad kissing became better.

Patrick, in all of fifteen seconds, managed to literally shove his tongue down Jonny's throat and bite his nose _at the same time_. He also clearly thought that the best use of his hands during a kiss was to tug on Jonny's earlobes. It was awful. It not only killed every boner Jonny had ever had for Patrick, it killed future boners Jonny was going to have for hot people who could actually kiss.

So Jonny shoved Pat off, wiped his mouth, and yelled, "Jesus! Who the fuck taught you to kiss?"

Pat looked turned on ( _How?_ Jonny thought hysterically) and bewildered and stammered out, "Uh, Gags. I mean. Sam."

Which, honestly, Jonny was expecting to hear that that had been Pat's first kiss. A first kiss, he could work with, improve on. But apparently this was just Pat's technique, a technique that Sam Gagner had _taught him_ , and, man, never in his life had Jonny wanted to punch someone more than he wanted to punch Sam Gagner.

Pat, oblivious, stepped forward, mouth _already_ open, tongue _already moving_ in … a triangle? What? And Jonny couldn't help it. He shuddered.

"Uh, no thanks," Jonny said, while stepping as far away as he could. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just ... not into dudes?" This was a lie. Jonny was really, really into dudes. He loved dudes. He wanted to go kiss another dude _right then_ to remove the memory of Pat's kiss from his mouth.

"Oh," Pat said. He sounded sad and worried, so Jonny amended, "I mean, no, I like dudes. It's just … you're not a great kisser?" 

Pat's face fell.

"I mean," Jonny added, feeling worse, "I don't think the chemistry is there. Yet. Ever. Sorry."

"It's okay," Pat said, and for the rest of the night it was, but he didn't smile at Jonny for a week.

* * *

In the end, Pat makes the decision for Jonny by waking up a few minutes later, turning to Jonny, smiling, and saying, “Good morning, lover.”

“Oh god,” Jonny moans. The last thing he needs right now is Pat mocking him.

“Miss me already?” Pat asks, leaning over to kiss Jonny. Jonny … can’t actually handle that right now, so he jumps off the bed.

“Um,” Pat says with a frown. “Do I have terrible morning breath? Because I have Altoids right here.”

“No,” Jonny says, feeling tense and horny and awful. “No, I just. I don’t think we can do that again.”

“What?!” And now Pat is jumping off the bed and looking pretty pissed at Jonny. “You’re seriously turning me down after last night? Because at the time, ‘not doing that again’ did not seem to be in your vocabulary!”

“Shut up!” Now Jonny is actually just mad. He’s mad that Pat’s making fun of what he said in the heat of the very, very good moment, and he’s mad that apparently Pat is a sex genius and Jonny is just average, and he’s mad that he could have been having this for years. Jonny’s filled with a sort of frustrated rage that he can’t totally explain. “I just....when the fuck did you get so good at sex?” 

Pat just stares at him, gobsmacked, before responding, “Are you seriously mad at me for being good in bed?”

“No! Maybe? I don’t know, I mean, when we kissed when we were younger you _bit my nose_!” Jonny’s getting worked up now, gesturing everywhere, and Pat is just looking more and more incredulous. “And now you can do ... _that_. It doesn’t make sense!”

“Uh.” Pat seems to be at a genuine loss for words. “Don’t most people get better at sex than they were at 18?”

Jonny groans and buries his face in his hands, saying, “You were supposed to be a pity fuck!” He expects this will at least piss Pat off, at which point the conversation can end and he can head home and hate himself. He can’t believe he’s the one who failed to impress, here.

Instead Pat offers him a shit-eating grin. “I know, dude. I always am.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“How do you think I got so awesome at sex? I had a lot of it. Out of ‘pity.’” 

Pat is looking really smug right there, like he wants to fuck Jonny senseless some more just to prove something, and well, fuck that. Jonny doesn’t need Pat to throw any of this shit in his face ever again. He already feels like an idiot for assuming he knew how this would go and for being so completely wrong. “Fuck you, Pat!”

“Are you seriously pissed that I’m better at sex than you? Is this an actual thing you’re being competitive and angry about?!” Now Pat is back to being incredulous, and also very obviously pissed. 

_Good_ , Jonny thinks. This is what he wanted. “It’s just not fair,” he bitches, partly because it’s how he feels and partly because he knows it will piss Pat off more. If Pat’s mad, then he’ll stop trying to get a second round to show Jonny up again and just let Jonny leave. 

It works. Pat is throwing Jonny’s clothes at him and escorting him out of the apartment. “Fuck you, Jonny. You can fucking leave if you’re going to be a dick about how awesome I am at fucking you. Fuck that.” Pat’s furious expression turns into a smirk. “But I promise you, talk to anyone I’ve slept with and they’ll tell you I was the best they ever had. You’ll never top Kaner, baby.”

Jonny has finished shoving himself into his clothes and is at the door when he yells back, “Oh yeah? And who might those people be, huh?”

Pat gives him one final smirk. “Everyone, Jonny.” And then Pat slams the door in his face.

* * *

The truth of the matter was that Patrick had been ridiculously hung up on Jonny ever since meeting him, which made Jonny calling him a bad kisser hurt even more. He knew he wasn’t the best ever, but Sam had told him his technique had improved a lot, and, well ... he _really_ liked Jonny. He was hoping Jonny felt the same, and they could overcome his flaws _together_.

Instead, he spent a week alternating between being really sad and really mad at Jonny, all while having to see him regularly and pretend everything was fine. He was exhausted about everything by the time he had a chance to make a Skype date with Sam and share his woes.

“Aw, Patty,” Sam said. “I know we broke things off, but you look so miserable right now I almost want to come down there and cheer you up with my dick.”

“You mean … you’d bone me because I’m pitiful?” Patrick asked, hating how he sounded kind of hopeful about it. 

“Pat, look at you,” Sam said seriously, gesturing at Pat’s entire being. “I don’t know _anyone_ who wouldn’t fuck you out of pity right now. Or always.”

That was when Pat hit on his grand scheme. It was clear Jonny had been into him. It was even clearer that he no longer was because Pat was inexperienced (except for Sam) and sort of shitty at sex. So if Pat wanted to win Jonny, he just needed to become better at sex. A _lot_ better. And probably the fastest way to do that was to have a lot of sex.

And, okay. Pat knew he wasn’t the hottest guy out there, but he was extremely willing, lacking in a type other than “breathing,” and Sam had just said that anyone would want to throw his sad face a bone. All he had to do was go to where the people were. So he researched every gay bar in the city, made a map, and figured out a schedule. Pat might not be as much of a control freak as some people, but he was still a professional athlete and knew the benefits of a good training program. He started out with the bar that looked the sluttiest from the outside. On the inside it was a just shitty club full of a lot of dudes and low lighting. 

Pat wasn’t really worried about being photographed there, but the darkness still eased his mind. He didn’t want to be thinking about PR. He was more focused on either standing by the bar looking pathetic and easy, or being on the dance floor grinding pathetically and easily. It worked pretty fast, because within ten minutes there was a guy sticking his tongue in Pat’s mouth. In another three Pat was kneeling on the bathroom floor.

“Uh,” he said, suddenly feeling a little nervous and out of his depth. “It’s, um, my first time with a guy.” It wasn’t - Pat and Sam had had loads of sex, and he’d definitely kissed a few dudes before that in Detroit - but he figured he didn’t need to tell the total truth right then. “So, uh, can you just make sure, uh, I’m doing it ok? Like, let me know how you like it. Please.”

The guy, who was dark-haired and kind of burly, looked down at Pat and smiled, saying, “Hey, sure thing, sweetheart.” And he didn’t even say it sarcastically - it sounded like he really meant that Pat was being sweet, and Pat hadn’t expected to give this dude the best blowjob ever, but since the guy was being unexpectedly nice Pat was really going to try. And not just for Jonny.

“Great.” Pat smiled up at him and batted his eyelashes a little. “Thanks.” And then his mouth was too full to say anything for a while.

* * *

Jonny knows Pat is easy, and he’s aware in the back of his mind that he’s slept with some of … well, everyone. But no one ever talks about it, so Jonny’d always figured Patrick was still pretty awful at all things sexual. But the implication of Pat’s calmly stated “everyone” is running through his head the next day at practice, and he knows it won’t stop until he’s able to prove Pat wrong. There’s just no way Pat is “everyone’s” best. 

He waits until the end of practice to corner Duncs as they’re walking to their cars.

“Hey Duncs,” he starts, and immediately realizes he’s not sure how to say the next part with any sort of subtlety. “Have you ever, uh. Slept with Kaner?”

“Uh, yeah,” Duncs says. “I mean, hasn’t everyone?” Then he winces. “Sorry. I know you guys are...you guys. I didn’t mean anything--”

“We’re not anything,” Jonny says, and ignores Duncs’ quizzical look before asking, “How was it?”

Duncs actually _lights up_. “Ohhh man. I mean, I wasn’t expecting much, because it’s Kaner. I figured I was horny, he was horny, and getting off was getting off. But … man. Like, never repeat this, but it was probably the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Jonny’s jaw drops. “Really?”

Duncs is smirking now. “Really, Jonny. And if I can offer some advice - “ he lowers his voice so Jonny is forced to lean towards him “ - you should really get some of that.” And with that, he hops into his car and drives off, laughing like the jackass he is.

 _Fuck Duncs anyway_ , Jonny thinks while balling his fists.

Even after that, Jonny thinks Pat was probably exaggerating. Just because it was good for Duncs doesn’t mean it was good for _everyone_ Pat slept with. So Jonny starts grabbing guys when they go out and asking them one-on-one. And while he’s aware that this is sort of creepy - and that there’s no way people aren’t gossiping behind his back - he can’t stop himself.

While it turns out Pat has slept with a shocking amount of their teammates and mutual friends, there are some unexpected gaps in his sexual conquests. Oduya gives Jonny a totally incredulous look when Jonny asks him, and Sharpy actually laughs in his face. But the ones who do cop to it - and it’s an impressive list - all admit that Patrick is the best lay they’ve ever had bar none. Sure, pretty much every guy’s story starts with, “I was horny/throwing him a pity-fuck,” but they also all end with, “It was amazing, fuck, I still jerk off to it.”

Jonny’s anger at Pat being the best he’s had, and what that might mean, is rapidly being replaced with anger: he’s not _important_. If Pat is that good with everyone, then Jonny was nothing special. He’s not sure why that thought makes him angrier than he was when Pat was a dick, but it eats at him the entire time he’s fact-finding. Fuck Patrick for being some sort of sex savant, and fuck him for making it a trick, for having everyone feel bad for him, when it’s all a lie anyway.

But Jonny can’t stop thinking about that one time with Pat - and, from what he’s gathering from everyone else, Pat doesn’t really do repeats - and wondering if maybe it was a fluke. Maybe Kaner rocks your world the first time, but it’s all awkward limbs the second. Maybe Jonny isn’t like everyone else. Maybe Jonny can be _better_ than everyone else. Maybe he can have some average sex with Pat and just be over the whole thing.

That’s it. He’ll just fuck Pat again and be able to stop worrying about all this bullshit.

* * *

Pat went to a different gay bar every night for a few weeks, and each time he was shocked by how easy it was to get laid. The sex wasn’t phenomenal for his partners, as far as he could tell, but no one was complaining, and Pat was really starting to enjoy it. He tried to make out with a few different guys every night (because he _definitely_ needed to get better at kissing) and to suck off at least two. He was trying to hone in on specific skills before moving on to bigger stuff, and so far none of the guys seemed to object to getting their dicks sucked in a bathroom.

When the team started another road trip, Pat didn’t plan on going to any gay bars (too risky with the team around) and resigned himself to not getting laid for a couple days. (He was a little surprised to realize he was annoyed about that, since “not getting laid” was basically his life story until a few weeks ago.) Which is why when he actually was hit on, it was pretty unexpected. The team arrived in New York the day before the game. but everyone was beat, so they all just met at the hotel bar. Pat was enjoying the team bonding, as well as Jonny _finally_ relaxing around him, so he was just being loose and goofy. Some of the guys were hitting on girls, but Pat was happy just talking excitedly to Sharpy and, after a few drinks, dancing.

Once he started dancing Sharpy refused to buy him any more beer, so Pat walked to the bar in a misguided attempt to trick the bartender into serving him.

“One Stella please,” Pat said, but the bartender was already laughing.

“Sorry kid, you barely look 15.”

Pat hates when his plans fail. “Hey! Shut up, I’m totally 21.”

“Uh-huh. Look, if you weren’t obviously friends with a bunch of older, burly guys I wouldn’t even think you were legal.” And sure, the bartender was being a dick and keeping him from drinking, but Pat could have sworn he just got the once-over from him.

 _Easy_ , Pat thinks. _Look and act really easy_. But what he said was, “Hey, some people dig the barely legal look!” And then he batted his eyelashes some, because if he’d learned anything from all the cocksucking he’d been doing, it’s that no matter how ridiculous it looks, a lot of guys are into that.

“Yeah,” and the bartender was smiling now. “Look, kid, I can’t give you a beer, but if you want, there’s a room set aside for the staff. I could give you the room number?”

“Yeah,” Pat said, and this time he tried to wink. The bartender shuddered (out of attraction, Pat optimistically assumed). “That would be great. What time are you off, uh … ?”

“Dan,” said Dan, and then he reached out to shake Pat’s hand. “I’m off at midnight. The room is 621. Here’s a water to take back to the table.”

Pat was so busy being thrilled that his look-and-act-easy plot was working that he managed to ignore the side-eye Jonny gave him when he got back to the table.

Just after midnight found him shifting his feet nervously outside room 621, waiting (hoping) that Dan would answer his knock. It had only just hit him that Dan hadn’t just want to get blown in the bathroom. Dan had wanted a _room_. Dan probably wanted to fuck Pat, and while Pat had no problem with that, he hadn’t been honing his fucking skills _at all_. He was back to feeling nervous and inexperienced.

But Dan just smiled as he let Pat into the room, and smiled as they made out, and smiled more when Pat shoved his hands in Dan’s pants and started to remove Dan’s shirt. But the biggest smile came when, after making out and rubbing off on each other in their underwear, Dan reached for the lube and Pat swallowed and said, “Hey, this is, uh, my first time? With a guy? So, just. Tell me what to do, okay?” 

And like every other time that seemed to be an instant trigger for kindness, because Dan grabbed his hand and just said, “Of course, hey, of course.” He then proceeded to show Pat exactly what a prostate could do.

* * *

Given how he left things last time, Jonny is surprised by how easy it is to have sex with Pat again. He just texts that he’s coming over, lets himself in, and says, “We need to fuck again.” Pat shrugs and starts getting them both naked.

Jonny expects that the lack of foreplay means it’ll be fast and dirty, but Patrick is taking his time. He’s kissing and touching Jonny everywhere, and at first Jonny is trying to keep his head in the game and keep up, but he keeps falling behind until finally he can’t do anything but lay back and moan and let Pat take care of him. 

Jonny’s sense of time is gone. He doesn’t know if they’ve been fucking for ten minutes or five hours, but it all feels awesome. He can’t stand up yet, but he feels strongly that if he doesn’t, Pat will win because - fuck, that was actually _better_ than last time, _fuck_.

“Ugh, fuck you,” he complains, face mooshed into a pillow. “You’re ruining my life.”

“Hmmm? With awesome sex?” Pat looks pretty stupid at the moment. His hair is everywhere, his eyes are closed and he actually has some jaw acne. But Jonny knows that he looks stupider, has more hickeys, and fuck Pat, seriously. Jonny forces his eyes open, forces himself up, and starts putting on clothes.

“That’s it?” Pat asks, and he’s clearly aiming for mad, but he sounds too sleepy for it to work. “No afterglow? Just gonna leave because I’m better than you?”

“You’re not better at everything!” Jonny says defensively as he reaches for the door. “I bet there’s lots of shit I’m better at, sexually.”

“Sure,” Pat says noncommittally. “Let me know when you figure out what that is.”

* * *

After that night in the hotel with Dan, Pat started picking up on the road when he could. He still didn’t go to gay bars, but he was getting better and better at reading the poorly hidden interest in dudes at bars and airports and rest stops, and taking advantage of it. 

His dick-sucking skills had never been better (he could now deep throat most guys, and have a dude with average stamina coming in under three minutes), and he actually had three consecutive guys tell him he was the best kiss they’d ever had. Score one for being really easy and also spending way too much time reading sex advice columns. He’d also had enough experience at that point to know that while he wasn’t opposed to guys who were kind of assholes (see also: Jonathan Toews), there was a big difference between being kind of an asshole in the world and kind of an asshole in bed. It had taken awhile, but Pat had learned how to avoid the second kind because, surprise! It turned out the best sex was the kind where everyone seemed to be getting what they wanted and not feeling bad about it. 

So Pat was feeling all grown-up and confident and shit. He almost felt like he could successfully bang one of the women who always approach the team. Not that he wants to, because he loves dick. And, like, Jonny. But his skills are such that he _could_. 

But now that his cocksucking skills were officially awesome, he figured he needed to get better at anal. Dan excepted, he hadn’t really done more than get fingered during a reciprocal blowjob, and learning how to be a good bottom _and_ top would be essential to his future sex life with Jonny. 

He started suggesting to guys that they “take him home and then take him,” because Pat had also learned that subtlety was totally unimportant here. He spent a few weeks, off and on, working on getting pounded and learning how to do everything from just lying there and taking it to being a total power bottom. Once he had that mastered, he started trying to top. That was more difficult to get experience with because, as it turned out, something about being a tiny blonde guy meant people thought he only wanted to get fucked. But he started figuring out which kind of guys were likely to be into being topped by him and seeking them out aggressively. And hey, if he was wrong, the worst thing that happened was he was the one who got fucked instead.

The first time Pat was able to make a guy come untouched he figured he was close to mastering topping, so he went out and did it a few more times just to make sure. And while there was definitely stuff he wanted to work on (rimming, bondage - he had a list), he was feeling really confident about his abilities in the sack, and also kind of regretting how stupid it had been to go out and nail half of Chicago’s gay population. For one, it had taken Pat forever to figure out that “no condoms for oral” was not exactly the safest sex practice, but more importantly, the Blackhawks’ success meant he was also starting to get a little bit well-known and more likely to be recognized. He wasn’t sure what would be worse, being outed by a picture of him going down on a guy in a bathroom, or being recognized by a guy he was going down on who then gave him shit for his face-off percentage.

For the rest of the season he took a break from his usual bars so that by the time the Hawks were out of the playoffs, Pat was mostly just excited to go home, see his family, and maybe relax on the whole slut thing. The fact that the gay bars in Buffalo were for shit helped. He was able to have a laid back off-season where he spent any time not bugging his sisters either training or being lazy. He texted guys from the team some, occasionally went out with old friends, and, unexpectedly, still managed to get laid.

“Sorry,” said the guy trying to unzip Pat’s pants. 

The dude hadn’t done anything wrong, so Pat was totally confused. “Huh? Why are you sorry?”

“I mean, sorry, I don’t normally do this. But you just look so...” and he gestured to Pat, “that I figured you’d appreciate it. Even though I might not be, um, amazing.”

The guy was currently holding Pat’s dick, so it took him a second to process that he was apologizing for having sex with Pat solely because Pat looked pitiful and easy and appreciative. Pat took a moment to be totally offended, but then the guy stroked his balls and Pat just grinned.

“Don’t worry, dude, I _am_ normally like this,” and Pat thought about how true that now was, before dropping to his knees and adding, “and I’m going to blow your mind.”

* * *

The thing is, Pat regularly accuses him of being a hyper-competitive dick, but Jonny totally is. He knows he is. And he also knows that Pat basically spent their entire second encounter showing off with every kiss and thrust, demonstrating how thoroughly Jonny could be owned. It was infuriating, but also worked pretty well, if Jonny going out to a gay bar in Naperville is any indication.

Jonny hates bars generally and gay bars specifically, because he always ends up feeling like a piece of meat. All the attention can be flattering, and is occasionally wanted, but it also makes him feel really exposed, as if Deadspin has somehow turned into a living person that can trick Jonny into sucking its cock and livestreaming the whole thing. So he tries to dress down and not play up his attributes like he normally would. He also wants to get this whole thing over with as fast as possible, cut straight to the heart of the matter. So he scans the crowd, finds a guy he totally wouldn’t mind kissing dancing alone, and walks up to him.

“Uh, hey,” says the guy, who is a bit shorter than Jonny and also blonde. Fuck Jonny’s life. “How’s your night--” Jonny cuts off whatever small talk the guy was going to attempt and just says, “Can I suck your cock?”

The guys eyes fly open. “What?!”

“Can. I. Suck. Your. Cock?” Jonny repeats, trying really hard to not actually bare his teeth with each word. The guy is making a facial expression that conveys a sense of fear that Jonny is going to murder him, but also serious arousal that a guy who looks like Jonny wants to suck his dick.

“I mean, yes, sure!” the guy stammers, and before he’s even finished the sentence Jonny is grabbing his arm and dragging him to the bathroom. _We’ll see who can deep throat who better, Pat_ , Jonny thinks darkly, before dropping down and starting to practice.

“A+ for effort,” Pat is saying a week later, while grinning like the smug sexually proficient asshole he is. “But I was able to keep you deep way longer before pulling off. And I swallowed without any of it dribbling on my chin.” Pat has the nerve to say the last part while wiping said come off Jonny’s chin and giving him a fond smile.

“Fuck you, Pat,” Jonny says before slamming the door.

* * *

After his surprisingly successful summer, Pat returned to Chicago reenergized, a little homesick, and committed to fucking anyone that offers. He wasn’t going to go out the way he did last year - seriously, sucking off that many dudes in the bathroom was _so stupid_ \- but he wasn’t going to turn anyone down, either. 

What he didn’t expect, of course, was how into Jonny he’d still be after a summer apart. Jonny came back tan (even though Winnipeg has to be the coldest place ever) and with at least twice as many arm muscles as last season. Pat couldn’t help but flirt with him shamelessly pretty much all the time, but Jonny still seemed content to treat Pat as a friend. It wasn’t ideal, but it was totally fine for the time being.

What Pat also didn’t expect was for his first offer of the season to come from another player. Pat has had years to reflect on it, but he’s still not 100% sure how he and Bobby Ryan went from having friendly Team USA post-game drinks at the bar with their respective teams to making out furiously in Ryan’s hotel room. 

“Fuck, Kaner,” said Bobby after they broke apart. “You’re such an amazing kisser, holy shit.” And yeah, Pat had worked hard on those kissing skills, thanks, so he accepted the compliment gracefully. 

“Thanks, Bobby. You’re pretty good too.”

Bobby and Pat didn’t say much more other than to have a brief discussion of sex logistics until they were stretched out on the bed afterwards. Pat was pretty sweaty, but Bobby was actually panting, so Pat felt pretty accomplished. 

“Holy shit,” said Bobby. “I mean....holy _shit_.”

“Yea?” Pat was feeling kind of sleepy and, while he hated to fuck and run when actually in a room with someone, he figured he should probably get out of there before someone spotted him.

“Yes,” Bobby said emphatically. “I mean. I’m not going to lie, I really only hit on you because, well...”

“I was a pity fuck?” Pat supplied, because he knew the score by now.

Bobby looked sheepish at that, but nodded. “Sorry, bro. I honestly would have hit on you sooner if I’d known it would be like that.”

“Well, thanks,” Pat said, and he meant it. “I, uh, hate to do this, but I should probably go before anyone sees me?”

“Oh, sure,” said Bobby. “Let’s find your pants.” But when he tried to get up, he actually stumbled a bit. Pat couldn’t help his smug grin.

“It’s fine dude, I got ‘em,” Pat said, pulling his clothes on and turning to leave. “This was great, thanks again!”

“No,” said Bobby really seriously, like he was about to convey something of utmost importance. “Thank _you_.”

 _Yeah_ , Pat thought as he started the stride of pride to the elevator. _My skills are perfect_.

* * *

Pat doesn’t know what has happened to his life, but he’s gone from figuring he’d never get to have sex with Jonny ever again, and being pretty sad about it, to having tons of weird, angry sex with Jonny.

Well. Jonny is angry. Pat is mostly amused and self-satisfied. It’s become a pretty set pattern after the deep throating incident: Pat will either mention, or demonstrate, an area of sexual expertise. Jonny will leave furious and yelling. Pat won’t see him outside of practice for about a week, and then Jonny will storm into his apartment, already taking off his shirt. Then he’ll grab Pat, kiss him fast and dirty, and yank Pat’s clothes off while yelling about what’s going to happen.

The week after deep throating had been fingering. Then biting. Then spanking. Today, Jonny’d just stormed in and yelled “RIMMING!” while pulling Pat’s pants down.

It’s all pretty hot, and so far Pat has won every insane sexual competition Jonny has devised. He’s not _not_ enjoying himself, because he would never be mad about sex with Jonny, but he can’t help thinking that Jonny would be performing a lot better if he wasn’t so focused on one thing every time, if he could relax and enjoy himself, and maybe not be so mad at Pat when he comes.

Pat tries to tell him this after the rim jobs by grabbing Jonny’s wrist during his storm-out and saying, “Hey, you know? Sex is better if you’re enjoying yourself, and enjoying what you’re doing with your partner. I don’t know if fucking me to try and win something is helping your performance.”

“Are you saying,” Jonny asks coldly, “that you give up?”

“What? No! I’m just saying … maybe we should just have, you know, sex. Without all … this.”

Jonny sighs and pulls his hand out of Pat’s hold. “Fuck you, Pat,” he says like always, but this time there’s no heat behind it. He doesn’t even slam the door.

* * *

Pat figured the sex he had with Bobby was a one-time thing; it’s not like the NHL was crawling with dudes who fuck dudes, fantasies he has about various Staals and other players aside. But what Patrick forgot to factor in was that the NHL was crawling with _dudes_. Dudes who generally like to get off. And many dudes can overlook their partner’s gender for long enough to do that, especially if said partner is known to be easy and willing and appreciative. And so Patrick found himself getting off with more than a few guys who, as far as Patrick knew, had never even touched a dick before. And while he never asked any of his random hook-ups about their relationship statuses, he found himself turning down (or, more accurately, avoiding obvious interest from) dudes he knew were currently dating someone. Patrick might be a slut, but he wasn’t going to help someone cheat (mostly because he suspected that would end with him getting yelled at).

And while initially Pat knew that dudes were hooking up with him because of the whole easy-pity-fuck vibe he had going on, he was also aware that his reputation for being a great lay was starting to spread. Or trying to, at least.

“No one believes me,” Duncs was telling him drunkenly one night. 

“No one believes you about what?” Patrick had lost of the thread of this conversation a while ago and was just trying to stay on the right side of sober.

“No one believes me that you’re the best sex ever.”

Patrick couldn’t help it - he got a huge grin at the compliment. “Oh yeah? Best ever, huh?”

“Yeah,” Duncs said kind of mournfully. “But no one buys it! I mean, not that I talk about, um, _that_ , a lot. But I told Seabs, and he actually wanted to test me for drug use.”

Okay, Pat was a little offended by that. 

“Eh, it doesn’t really matter,” Pat said philosophically after a minute. “I get plenty laid by people who think I’m going to be terrible. It’s fine.”

“Oh, good,” Duncs said, and he sounded like he really meant it. “Uh, hey, do you ever think we could...”

Patrick had tried to keep a rule that he didn’t fuck other players more than once. He had not totally succeeded (Carey Price was _really_ flexible, okay?), but he tried. But Duncs sounded really sad, and he was being pretty nice, so Pat just ruffled Duncs’ ridiculous hair and said, “Sure, let’s go back to my place.”

* * *

Pat never thought the day would come when he would turn down sex with Jonny, but that day has arrived. It’s not that he’s less hung up on Jonny than he was when he was 18. If anything, having sex with Jonny has only made his feelings worse, especially because sure, he’ll be competitive, but each and every time Patrick has sex with Jonny he’s just thinking about how great it is to be with Jonny. To blow Jonny’s mind with his body, and get him to experience at least some of the pleasure Pat always feels when Jonny’s around. Pat’s pretty sure he could be any warm body to Jonny, though. In fact, Jonny might be happier fucking someone in front of Pat and being graded on his performance than he is fucking Patrick. Yeah, Jonny’s competitive rage is coming from the fact that Patrick’s the best sex Jonny’s ever had, but Pat knows enough now to know that there’s a huge difference between “best sex ever” and “person I care about.” 

And to be honest, he’s just getting tired of seeing Jonny go.

So the next time Jonny bursts in, shirt already half over his head and talking a mile a minute about how “I know you can take a lot of fingers - I know we did fingering, but I really think that fisting is its own thing - ” Pat interrupts, “Not tonight.” 

“What?” Jonny has just finished pulling his shirt off, which in turn knocked off his baseball cap, and he has terrible hat head. He looks stupid. Pat loves him.

“Not tonight,” Pat repeats. “Maybe … not ever again.”

“Giving up already, Kaner? I knew I could outlast you.” And Jonny’s talking tough, but Pat can see how hurt he actually is, how much he’s trying to play this off. Pat just feels tired. 

“Sure. Whatever. I’m done, okay? I’m tired of being like … a net you can stick your dick in. I’m not a shootout drill. I’m done.”

Now Jonny looks pissed. Pat’s sorry he took Jonny’s precious competition away, but fuck him if he thinks it’s okay to treat the person you’re boning like this. Even guys whose names he didn’t know had had better manners than Jonny does right now.

Pat pushes him out the door, and Jonny is just blinking dumbly at him when Pat says, “Later, Tazer,” and shuts it.

* * *

As he left yet another visiting team member’s hotel room, Pat was starting to think that it was getting a little weird to play against so many guys he’d fucked - like he was being disloyal to the Hawks somehow - and that more importantly, despite the fact that every hockey player with even a hint of bi-curiosity was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, he didn’t feel any closer to getting to date Jonny. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he’d be good at dating Jonny. Except for Sam, he’d never really dated anyone, and he didn’t really know how it was supposed to go well enough to feel confident about it. He wasn’t going to date a member of an opposing team, there were no Blackhawks he wanted to date (except Jonny), and dating a random guy he met somewhere felt impossible. 

Because he’s kind of a softy, Pat had always liked the really sweet parts of sex. He might be able to give a guy multiple orgasms (take that, _science_!), but he also liked holding them and being held. He liked that he’d helped a few guys through some of their personal hang-ups and kinks, and was proud that he’d done so without being a total douche. 

Still, as much as Pat enjoyed all the sex he was having (a lot), and surprising people with his skills (more than the sex, sometimes), it was getting to be a little shallow. He had no regrets, but he wondered if spending the next few years sleeping his way through team rosters was the best way to impress Jonny. Or maybe he should give up the ghost of him and Jonny once and for all. It had been years. It was probably time.

Of course, it was after making this very mature resolution to stop sleeping around and maybe find someone new to be hung up on that he actually managed to sleep with Jonny.

It was sort of amazing that it happened at all. He could tell that Jonny was happy by how handsy he was getting, but Jonny’d been happy and tipsy around Pat before and nothing ever came of it. But maybe the stars had aligned in the right place, or maybe Jonny was finally getting over his _whatever_ , because Pat was finally getting his chance.

Even though the hands that Jonny refused to take off Pat’s lower back made Pat confident that Jonny was a sure thing, he was still nervous while opening the door to his place. The last time he and Jonny went down this path it had ended up changing the course of Pat’s life, and he couldn’t help but be a little worried that Jonny might reject him again unless he was truly amazing. 

Once they were inside Jonny made the first move, grabbing Pat’s shoulders and pulling Pat towards him, and Pat was finally able to really kiss Jonny the way he’d wanted to since forever. It was a fantastic kiss, Pat felt tingly all over from it, and from the way Jonny pulled back and blinked in surprise before going “Fuck, Pat,” and leaning back down for more, he knew Jonny felt it too. 

Fucking Jonny was something that Patrick had been training for years for, and he couldn’t wait to finally get a chance to show off all that hard work. Which is maybe why Jonny being so mad about everything Pat had done for _Jonny_ hurt more than Jonny rejecting him after that first kiss.

* * *

Jonny spends a few days being really mad at Pat for kicking him out, because _fuck Pat, seriously_. Jonny can be a dick, but he’s not some sort of objectifying tool the way Pat seems convinced he is. Sure, he got a little obsessed with showing Pat up, but that wasn’t about not seeing Pat as a _person_. That was about showing Pat that Jonny was good enough for him. Jonny’s competitiveness is always about wanting to give the best to the people he cares about, and he thought Pat _got_ that. 

Although now that Jonny took the time to review his actions, he could admit that it might have seemed more like he was mad at Pat than himself.

Actually, reviewing his actions … he had really come across like a dick. A dick who didn’t care about Pat at all. Fuck. Now he was going to have to go over to Pat’s house and actually explain things with words instead of sex. 

_Fuck it_ , Jonny tells himself. _It’s Pat. You can do this. You have done this. Just do it while_ saying the emotions _this time_. And so he drives over, and just like before, he lets himself into Pat’s place unannounced.

“Hey,” Pat says, waving from the couch and pausing Call of Duty. “What’s up?”

“I know what sex thing I can be the best at,” Jonny says without prelude.

Pat’s face falls. “Ugh, Jonny, I thought you put that behind you. I thought I was clear, I don’t--”

“No, no,” Jonny interrupts, because he doesn’t want Pat to work himself up and get sadder. “It’s not like that. I’m not trying to compete with you anymore.”

Pat looks pretty skeptical. “O … kay?”

“I--who’s _your_ best lay ever, Pat?”

“Uh...” Pat’s faltering a little. He was clearly not expecting the question.

“See?” Jonny says triumphantly. “You don’t know! Because you always banged people and learned how to make it good for _them_. For everyone else.”

“So? Are you trying to say I’m not good now? Because we’ve had this conversation before, Jonny, and - ”

Pat still seems tense, but his initial skepticism has been replaced by confusion, and Jonny knows it’s gonna be okay. He resists the urge to go in for a fist bump, or just jump straight into kissing Pat. “No, no. You’re great in bed, I concede. But … your hook-ups have never really been about _you_. You’ve never made them be. You can’t even think of a single really great lay, because you did all the work to make them good!”

Pat’s smiling now, and Jonny thinks Pat’s already figured it out, but he needs to finish what he started. “And that’s what I can be the best at. You might be, you know, better at all the other things. But if you get to be my best sex ever then, um. I wanna be yours.”

Pat’s smile could light an entire room by now and Jonny starts walking towards him, hands twitching, because he can’t wait to touch him. He feels like he’s won something amazing.

“Well Jonny,” Patrick says slowly, grabbing onto Jonny’s hands. “Do you really think you can compete with the many, many, many, many people I’ve had sex with?”

“Shut up Kaner,” Jonny says before finally leaning in to kiss Pat. 


	2. Four People Patrick Kane Failed to Impress With His Sexual Prowess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written because I wanted to make, like, four jokes and I had to put words around them. Ugh.
> 
> Don't try to make sense of the timeline, because I sure as hell didn't!

**Sam Gagner**

No one believes Sam when he tells them Patrick Kane is terrible in bed. Correction: no one _who has had sex_ with Patrick Kane believes Sam when he tells them, no, seriously, he is the worst sex Sam has ever had. Sam knows that Patrick has become a massive, massive slut and honed some serious skills over the past few years, but he also knows what Pat was like when they were fumbling around in juniors, and it was the sex of nightmares.

The first time Pat kissed Sam, he didn’t actually _kiss_ him. Really, all the guy had to do was put his lips on Sam’s lips and Sam would have been thrilled. But no. Patrick’s idea of a kiss when he was 16 was that he should _lick_ Sam’s lips. And not in a sexy “come on baby, open your mouth for my tongue” way, but in an “I should get chapstick, my lips really hurt” sort of way. All. Around. His mouth.

And he _still_ somehow bit Sam’s nose.

And his hands, jesus. Sam has no idea what he was going for, but what Patrick ended up doing was sticking his dry finger in Sam’s ear. On _both_ sides. 

“Okay,” Sam said after he pulled away from _whatever_ that was. “You need to get better at that, because I would still like you to touch my dick and vice versa.” Athletes are trained to respond to constructive criticism and Pat was especially easy to please, so instead of being offended that Sam hated his kissing, he just nodded a bunch and said “Yes, totally!” before trying to dive back in and kiss Sam again.

Sam actually held up his hands to block him. It wasn’t one of Sam’s prouder moments.

“Uh, how about we work on kissing later? For now let’s just jerk each other off.”

Patrick nodded a bunch again, and they both paused to take off their pants and lie down on the bed. Sam really thought this was going to be okay, because hey! Pat had jerked off before. How bad could he be?

Really, really bad, apparently.

“My dick is not a joystick!” Sam finally yelled, after the third minute of Pat treating his dick as _exactly that_. “Why are you gripping it so hard? Why are you moving it back and forth? Just do what you do to yourself!”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Pat said in a half moan, because _Sam_ was able to jerk someone else off just fine. “It’s hard!”

“Not it’s not!” Sam said, and to prove his point, he stroked the top of Pat’s dick. Pat tensed up and came. Unfortunately, Pat was somehow _even worse_ at handjobs after coming, so finally Sam just pulled Pat’s hand from his dick and jerked himself off until he came on Pat’s chest.

“You,” Sam said, drowsy and pretty annoyed, “are going to get better at that, so help me god.”

“Awesome,” Pat mumbled into Sam’s arm.

* * *

Pat … didn’t get much better. He didn’t get actively worse (at least at kissing and hand jobs), but he never got good at either. Sam eventually gave up on trying to get Pat to be good and just tried to get him to be less awful. If that meant dealing with a lot of extremely unfortunate French kissing, well, at least Sam wasn’t having his lips licked anymore. And while Pat still pretty much sucked at hand jobs, he had at least stopped treating Sam’s dick like something from the arcade. Hell, Sam had even managed to come from Pat’s hand alone. 

The less Sam says about the disaster that was the time Patrick genuinely thought Sam would appreciate a blowjob where Pat _bit the head of his dick_ , the better. Especially because Sam had had to bribe the ER doctor with season tickets to keep the whole incident out of his medical records.

Sam had figured that at least when they finally decided to do anal he could take over and make Pat just lay there, which, while neither sexy nor exciting, limited the number of potential injuries by a lot, and that’s all Sam was asking for at this point. Unfortunately, Patrick had literally the tightest ass of anyone Sam had ever known. While the sheer amount of time it took to open Pat up wasn’t actually a turn off, Patrick’s insistence on clenching his ass as soon as Sam was inside meant that anal with Pat was both too quick and painful.

So, yeah, Patrick Kane: worst lay ever, and Sam attributes the fact that they did have so much sex to the fact that they were young and busy and it was really, really, really convenient. Plus, Patrick may have been terrible at sex, but at least he was a good guy that Sam liked talking to. There was always that.

* * *

Which is why, even though Sam knows that Pat has been slutting it up around both Chicago and the league, he’s completely shocked the first time someone brings up sex with Pat to him.

“Hey Sam,” says Jeff Carter, after his third beer. “You used to room with Kane, right?”

“Yeah, when we were in juniors. Why?”

“Did you guys ever...?” At this point Carter makes the motion for blowjob, only he does it with his mouth closed and his hand more pointed towards his eye.

“Uh,” says Sam.

“I mean, no judgement! I was just wondering, because, um. We hooked up awhile ago.”

Sam winces in sympathy. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh man, it was so good.” And then Carter leans towards Sam and licks his lips a little. “So I was thinking ... maybe he learned all those moves from you?” He punctuates this with an eyebrow waggle.

Sam has only just begun to process the fact that _Jeff Carter_ is hitting on him when he realizes something weird about what he just said. “Wait. You had _good_ sex with Pat?”

“Honestly? More than good. Best ever.”

 _What the fuck?_ Sam starts to think, but then Carter reaches for his dick and he stops thinking about shitty Patrick Kane sex.

* * *

While that’s the only time Sam gets laid because of Pat’s skills, it’s just the beginning of hearing a billion people talk about how good Pat is in bed. Sam is sort of torn between pride in Pat and absolute fury that he’d been subjected to hand jobs comparable to Indian burns instead of whatever it is that Pat does now. 

He’s glad that at least Tazer can agree with him.

“No, I know _exactly_ how you feel,” Tazer’s slurring over beers. “Like, the first time he kissed me it was … ” 

Tazer makes a horrible face. Sam has never felt closer to another human being. “You have _no idea_. Try kissing him when he was 16! He actually _licked my lips_. Like, instead of kissing them.”

Tazer’s mouth drops. “You’re kidding me!”

“Hand to god. That shitty kiss you had? That was hours of my hard work into improving him.”

Tazer looks a little sheepish at that. “He told me that you taught him that technique. It actually made me want to punch you? Because who _teaches_ someone to kiss like that?”

Sam just laughs. “No, no, I get you. I wanted to punch myself in the face every day.”

“Yeah,” Tazer says. “I get that.”

“But it’s … Pat, you know?” Sam adds.

“Yeah,” Tazer said softly. “I get that too.” They clink glasses awkwardly and Sam tries to wave their waitress over for another round. 

“He’s good now though, right?” Sam asked belatedly. He wants Tazer to be happy with Pat, because Pat wants Tazer to be happy.

“You have _no idea_ ,” Tazer says fervently, his ears turning red. “It’s … yeah.”

“Good,” Sam says, as he clinks their glasses together again.

* * *

Sam figures that bout of drunken bonding settled things between him, Tazer, and Patrick for good, which is why he’s surprised that when the Oilers are next in Chicago, Tazer and Pat show up at his hotel and demand to take him to dinner.

“It’s for your birthday!” Pat says, like that explains everything.

“Patty, thanks, but my birthday was actually three months ago.” 

Tazer’s smirking at Patrick as soon as Sam says ‘Patty,’ but then he turns back to Sam, says, “Whatever, you’re coming, no buts,” and basically drags Sam out of the room.

Fortunately, Tazer and not Pat picked the place, so they end up at a nice, not too fancy restaurant in Wicker Park. Because Pat is actually a pretty good conversationalist with people he knows well and Tazer is a well-mannered Canadian, Sam has a great time - at least until the end, when out of nowhere, Pat starts to get really fidgety. 

The fourth time he rips his napkin, Tazer grabs his wrist and says, “Pat, stop.” Pat stills, but continues to look really on edge. Sam pretends not to notice the intense eye conversation they’ve started to have, and takes the silence as a chance to eat more crème brûlée than he should.

Suddenly Pat jumps up and announces, “I’m going to the bathroom!” before stalking off.

“Oh for the love of...” Tazer mutters, and Sam raises an eyebrow. 

“Uh, everything okay, Tazer?”

“Yeah, it’s just, we wanted to talk to you about something, and Pat was supposed to be here and … whatever.” Tazer’s clearly frustrated at his boyfriend (Sam knows the feeling), so Sam tries to help him pay attention to the conversation they’re having. 

“Talk to me about what?”

Jonny actually blushes at that. “Well, uh, see. Um. Pat wanted to know what you and I talked about, that time we drank alone. And I told him.” Tazer’s nervously scratching his head, and Sam is seriously worried about what’s going to come out of his mouth next.

“Anyway, we got to talking and Pat admitted that, he, uh felt bad, that he was so ... the way he was, when you guys were hooking up. And so we wanted to offer you, uh, the chance to,” and Tazer actually grimaces here, “have ‘The Full Patrick Kane Experience’. Not my words. _Obviously_.” 

Sam can’t stop staring at Tazer, who isn’t blushing anymore but instead focusing his creepy eyes on Sam. 

“Oh my god. Are you saying I would have a free pass to fuck Patty?”

Tazer looks horrified. “What?! _No_ , uh, more. The both of us? I mean, I would be there. Also.”

Holy shit. Tazer and Patrick are offering Sam a _threeway_. Sam, who was once so hard up that he dealt with Pat’s Hand Jobs of Doom, is being offered a threesome with _two_ Stanley Cup winners.

Sam can’t help it. He bursts out laughing.

Now Tazer looks mortified and confused, and that just makes Sam laugh harder.

“What is your problem?” Tazer whispers. “What’s so funny about … that thing?”

“Oh my god, Jonny. Can I call you Jonny? I probably should, since you just offered to _touch my penis_.” Sam can’t help it, he has to laugh again. “Jonny, did you and Patty offer me a threesome because you _feel bad_ that I never fucked him when he was good?”

Jonny just stares.

“Do you think I am sitting in Edmonton weeping and rending my clothes because I never got to have a Patrick Kane who knew how to suck dick without taking me to the ER?”

Jonny starts to look embarrassed now. “I mean,” Jonny says hesitantly, “that isn’t how we worded it. Or thought about it. But, maybe a little?”

Patrick’s finally walking back to the table from the bathroom and Sam’s starting to giggle again. Patrick stares, clearly unsure if he should be laughing or not, and waits for Sam to be able to speak.

“Look, Pat, Jonny. Thanks. I appreciate the sentiment. And, uh, the sheer ego on display there, well done, Pat.” Pat blushes at that and Sam giggles again. “But, uh, no. I am not sitting at home pining after Pat because he got good after we hooked up.”

“You’re not?” Pat sounds a bit unsure. Not, Sam realizes, because he’s a self-centered douche (not totally, anyway), but because he’s Sam’s friend, and he genuinely cares about Sam’s feelings. 

Sam reaches across the table and touches Pat’s hand. “I’m sure, Pat. I haven’t had a lot of mind-blowing sex with a lot of people, I don’t think I’m missing too much.”

Both Jonny and Pat seem to relax at that. 

“Besides,” Sam adds, because these two have put him through enough tonight and he’s feeling smug. “I may not have had ‘The Full Patrick Kane Experience,’ but I definitely had a Patrick Kane Experience that no one else has had. Ever.”

Sam knows he’s won when Jonny starts giggling and Pat just scowls at both of them.

**Patrick Sharp**

Patrick Sharp, under no circumstances, wanted to have sex with Kaner. He loved Kaner, he felt for Kaner, he wanted to guide Kaner, but when he looked at him, absolutely no part of Sharpy wanted to stick _anything_ to Kaner.

Problem was, it was becoming harder and harder to convince Kaner of that.

Like most people on the team, Sharpy was aware that Kaner was sort of a slut. But Sharpy also knew that Kaner avoided guys with wives and girlfriends, and that he tended to let people come to him instead of approaching them. Which was why Kaner’s drunken insistence that the two of them should have sex was especially weird.

“Come on Sharpy,” Kaner said, slurring and also rubbing his hands all over Sharpy’s back in, actually, the least sexy way imaginable. “Why don’t you want to fuck me?”

“Peekaboo,” Sharpy sighed, because this was actually the third time he had said this _that night_ , “I have a wife. A lovely wife. A lovely, _pregnant_ wife. I am not going to fuck you.”

“It doesn’t even have to be sex! I could just suck you off!” Patrick looked kind of eager about that idea, actually, and did something where he licked his lips and batted his eyelashes. It was incredibly unarousing. Sharpy tried not to let actual disgust show on his face. 

“Thanks but no thanks. Pregnant wife trumps a quick blowjob. Sorry, Peeks.”

“But you’re so _pretty_ ,” Kaner said mournfully, and Sharpy knew how devastating being rejected by him could be, so he reached out and rubbed Kaner’s head. 

“Sorry buddy. That’s just the way things are.”

* * *

Of course, it was said lovely pregnant wife who tried to ruin everything for him. He found this out when he went out to check on the grill for _five seconds_ , seriously Abby, and came back to her saying, “Oh, I don’t think I would mind if you gave him head.”

“What?!” Sharpy said because, well. “What?!”

“Sharpy!” Patrick yelled from the spot where he was lying down on the floor and waving a beer bottle in the air. “We were just talking about you, man!”

“Yes, I can see that, Peeks. Abby, what the hell?”

“Kaner here,” said Abby sweetly (which is how Sharpy knew he was really in trouble, because when Abby sounded nicest was when she was at her meanest), “was just telling me about ‘what an awesome bro husband’ I have, because _apparently_ , he has been drunkenly throwing himself at you for months, and you were always faithful to me.”

“Always,” Kaner said passionately. “I mean, I was offering him _filthy, degrading_ shit, Abby, you wouldn’t believe, and he always said no.”

Abby was full-on smirking now, and Sharpy knew that she was just trying not to laugh. He was really fucked.

“And _I_ was telling Kaner here that it’s very, very sweet that you were being faithful. But I’m very pregnant,” and she paused here to pat her belly - Sharpy had never hated anyone more - “and there are some things I just can’t do for you right now. So I wouldn’t mind, actually.”

She gave Sharpy a huge shit-eating grin, and fuck, he had married an evil genius.

“ _She_ ,” Kaner said, trying to point at Abby and actually pointing at the flatscreen, “doesn’t mind if we bone! You said she would, but she _doesn’t_! We can totally bone now!”

The thing was, Sharpy had already told Abby about Kaner’s offers, because _of course_ he had. He was a good husband, and he also found it funny and knew Abby would too. She was well aware that Sharpy didn’t want to break the kid’s heart, but he definitely didn’t want to bone him, either.

So Abby was just doing this to be _completely evil_.

“We could just go to the bathroom right now,” Kaner was continuing, oblivious to Sharpy’s panic. “Or even to the bedroom. I mean, as long as Abby doesn’t mind.”

“Oh no,” Abby said, _evilly_. “I don’t mind at all.”

“Great!” Kaner was practically cheering at this point, and had stood up and was walking towards Sharpy with _intent_. Sharpy could not actually stand to sit through a single minute of Patrick Kane seduction. 

“Wait!” Sharpy said, only a little desperately. “Wait, you’re drunk! And I’m sober. It just wouldn’t feel right. I can’t do that, Peeks. Sorry.”

Kaner’s face fell. Abby actually offered Sharpy an impressed glance, but he was going to have the last laugh. He might be sober now, in pregnant solidarity, but she would have to deal with him getting drunk to forget any of this happened later.

“Oh, yeah,” Kaner said softly. “That’s a good point. Maybe next road trip?”

“Sure, Peeks, whatever you say,” Sharpy said, full of relief that he had once again delayed this. “Let’s go check on the food.”

* * *

Sharpy was able to avoid any more come-ons for the rest of the season through a genius plan of avoiding Kaner, making sure they only got drunk surrounded by other people, and eventually using his new baby as an excuse. He didn’t feel _great_ about any of this, but he really didn’t want to tell Kaner to his face that he was too pathetic and sloppy for Sharpy to consider fucking. He had class, okay? Fortunately, Kaner eventually seemed to forget about his desire to jump Sharpy, and Sharpy was relieved that they could go back to being friends who never, ever talked about how great it would be if the other friend came on their face while they were handcuffed.

Which is why, once Tazer and Kaner got their shit together, Sharpy was surprised to see Shawzy and Duncs looking sad as the two of them left early to “go to bed.”

“Who pissed in your cornflakes, huh?” Sharpy asked, because he was nice.

“It’s just...” Shawzy started, but Duncs jumped in. “It just sucks to see them together sometimes.”

This was news to Sharpy, because the whole team had seemed pretty supportive of the relationship on the whole. He frowned, because he was definitely not the guy to be confronting people about their issues with dudes banging, but it seemed like he was going to have to. “Uh...”

Duncs jumped to clarify. “Not like that!” he said. “It’s just, it was so great when Kaner was single.”

“It … was?” Sharpy was seriously confused by this conversation. Shawzy was nodding along though, and said, “Yeah, it really was.”

Sharpy had to know what this was about. “Why?”

“Because,” Duncs said, giving him a weird look, “Kaner is a _fucking magician_ in bed.”

“Seriously!” Shawzy said, poking the air for emphasis. “I know I’m young, but, best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Don’t worry,” Duncs said, and he was actually _patting Shawzy’s hand in sympathy_ , what was Sharpy seeing? “Me too.”

Sharpy caught up to the conversation, and, “Wait, what?! He’s the best sex _both_ of you ever had?”

“Dude,” Shawzy scoffed, “he’s the best sex that anyone who’s slept with him has ever had. Seriously. Ask anyone.”

Sharpy pinched himself to make sure this was reality. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Duncs said. “Really. I mean, I know it’s hard to believe, but talk to anyone. I’m surprised you don’t know this, he was all over you for a while. I was sure you had a thing.”

“No,” Patrick said, suddenly pissed off. “I turned him down.”

“You _turned him down_?” Duncs said incredulously. “But why?”

“Um, because I have a wife? And that’s not worth getting my dick sucked over?”

“Spoken,” Duncs said, standing to get more beer, “like a man who has never had his dick sucked by Patrick Kane.”

* * *

Sharpy made sure to be extra nice when he called home to talk to Maddy and hear about Abby’s day. He figured Abby suspected something was up, but she didn’t call him on it until Maddy was out of the room.

“Okay mister, what’s going?”

“ _Sweetness_ ,” Sharpy began. “Light of my life, have you ever heard anything about our little Peekaboo?”

“What sort of things, my darling?” 

“Oh, things like how he is apparently the best lay ever. Just things like that.”

Sharpy could _hear_ Abby’s evil smile over the phone. “Well, my love, now that you mention it, I might have heard a thing or two about that. From many guys on the team. And a few who aren’t.”

“And, my sweetums, did you hear these things _before or after_ you told Mr. Peekaboo that it would be okay if I fucked him?”

“Well, my dearest,” and Sharpy knew that Abby was holding back laughter now, fuck, “now that you mention it, I guess I heard those things _before_ that night happened.”

“So what you’re telling me, dear heart, is that you knew when I turned down Peeks that I was turning down a chance to get the best blowjob I’d ever get?”

Abby was just straight up laughing at him now. “Well, when you put it like that, honeybun, I guess I _did_ know that you were turning down amazing head in favor of protecting Li’l Peeks’ honor.”

Sharpy knew the joy of a prank fully come to fruition, but he couldn’t even mentally high five Abby right now, he was so mad. “I hate you,” is all he could manage before hanging up.

Fucking Kaner. Fucking Abby. And fucking Tazer for making sure he couldn’t have Kaner now and deliver some much needed payback.

 _No one has ever had a life as hard as mine_ was Sharpy’s last thought before drifting into an angry sleep.

**Tyler Seguin**

Patrick knows he's been reading the signals right all night, so for once he doesn't wait for the other guy to make the first move. When they get back to his place, still giggling at some stupid joke Tyler made in the elevator, Patrick just slams Tyler against the door and kisses him.

At first it’s good. Tyler sounds like he’s trying to talk at the beginning, but then he just starts kissing Pat super intently and biting his lip and it's really good. Pat's happy to make out by the door for a while, but he figures making out would be better on the couch, so he pulls back and holds out a hand to lead Tyler back to the couch.

"Whoa," Tyler says, and he's looking sort of dazed. Pat smirks because, yeah, that's what he's been working towards all night.

"That was, um, really great - " Tyler starts, and Pat butts in, "Thanks!" because compliments are always nice and there's no reason to be rude, "but I'm not into guys," Tyler continues.

Pat is pretty sure his mouth drops open at this point. "Wait, what?"

Tyler gives Pat one of his small, slightly dimpled grins and runs his hand through his hair. "I'm really flattered, because you're an awesome bro with great hair, but I'm not gay."

" _Seriously?_ " is all Pat can think to say.

"Hey, just because a dude is cut - ” Tyler starts to say in his own defense, but Pat cuts him off with a raised hand. "No, dude, you're super gay though." He starts ticking things off on his fingers. "You're always cuddling with other dudes. You call Marchy your _lover_. You're Facebook married to that other Tyler. You spend half your time on the internet flirting with guys. You just made out with me. Hell, you just made out with me and _you're obviously hard from it_." Pat stops the hand ticking to gesture at Tyler’s pretty obvious boner. 

Tyler blinks. Pat crosses his arm and just stares. Tyler blinks some more.

"Holy shit," Tyler yells. "I'm gay!" 

Pat rolls his eyes. "Yeah, welcome to the club, now can we get back to the making out thing?"

"No, shit," Tyler says, and he might be freaking out a bit at this point. "I'm really gay! I never thought … I just … I'm _really_ into dudes."

"Yes," Pat says, and he's trying to be polite, but Tyler is really hot and he would rather do things other than guide him through this crisis. "You are, so we should totally go back to the sex we were going to have."

"We can't do that!" Tyler says, kind of agitated. 

"Why not?" Pat is completely baffled. Tyler's hot, he's good at sex, they both like boners, this is a winning plan. 

"We can't," Tyler is saying adamantly. "I'm _married_."

Pat blames the fact that they are still not making out on why he yells, "That's not a _real marriage_! But the sex we could be having is _totally real_."

"No, I know," Tyler says with a nod. "But, like, it sort of is real? Or I mean, the feelings I'm realizing that I have are, so … thanks, but I think I need to call Brownie instead of … that."

Pat gives himself a moment to let out an undignified groan of frustration before composing himself with a deep breath. "No, of course, that's totally fine. You're not obligated to have sex with me or anything. I mean, I want to and I thought you did because we were flirting all night, but it's cool. Sorry for kind of being an ass."

"It's fine, I know it sucks to miss out on this," Tyler says sagely. "And that kiss was great! I am sure this would have been some excellent first gay sex. But I am going to go call my husband now." He slaps Pat gently on the cheek. "See ya later, Kaner!"

**Sidney Crosby**

Pat knows that Jonny has struck up an odd, tentative friendship with Sidney Crosby over the years, and Pat is super curious about how that works. Which is why Jonny and Pat are both awkwardly seated at a restaurant waiting to eat dinner with Crosby, who shows up five minutes late and waves at them apologetically while heading over to the table.

“So,” says Sidney after he’s sat down. “How long have you two been together?”

Jonny laughs a little and shakes his head. Pat decides to answer for the both of them “Well, it depends on what you mean. We had a lot of sex while Jonny was trying to get over his ‘Pat’s the Best Lay in the NHL’ thing, but I don’t know if I would consider us together until after that.”

“Really?” both Jonny and Sid say. 

“Yes, really. Wait,” Patrick points at Sid. “What are _you_ reallying?”

“Uh,” and Sid is blushing and looking decidedly uncomfortable. “You’re really the ‘best lay in the NHL’?” He says this with a frown while making the air quotes.

“Yes!” Pat says defensively. He looks to Jonny for support, but he’s just snickering into his menu. Douche. “I mean, duh, ask anyone.”

“Huh,” says Sid, considering. “I mean, no offense, but that’s … unexpected. You definitely weren’t my best sex ever.” 

Pat had, until that moment, actually forgotten his ill-fated hook-up with Sid. Shit. He hates when he does stuff like that.

“What, really?” Jonny is asking, eyes wide. “I mean, not that you hooked up, but he really wasn’t your best? Because Pat’s a dick, but he’s not lying - I’ve literally never talked to anyone but Sam Gagner who didn’t fall all over themselves praising him.”

Sidney might never stop blushing at this point. “Don’t get me wrong! It was good. There was just ... I mean, Pat brought ... I mean - there were a lot of feelings, okay? And that’s not really my … thing.”

The hook-up’s coming back to Pat now with awful clarity. He had been a lot drunk and a little sad about Jonny doing … something, and Sid had seemed pretty tense, and so. Well. There might have been a lot of pet names. And tenderness. Pat might have cried a little. 

Jonny, of course, is openly laughing now, and that seems to make Sidney less embarrassed, even if Pat is kind of mortified. Pat decides to redirect the conversation by focusing on a more important issue. “Wait, so if I’m not your best lay ever, who is?”

Sidney goes back to being beet red and pulls open his menu. For a second Pat thinks he’s not going to answer and is a little disappointed about that, but then Sidney mumbles something that sounds like “gurney.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Pat asks. “Couldn’t hear you through the menu and shame. It’s cool though, whoever it is, we won’t make fun of you.”

Sidney puts down the menu, but he’s still blushing and has started to fidget with his shirt. Pat’s about to say that he doesn’t have to answer when he finally blurts out, “Jonny, okay? My best sex ever was with Jonny.”

“ _Oh my God_ ,” Pat yells, because he can’t help it at this point. “What?! Oh my god, he’s your best sex because you’re both _crazy_! Forget everything I said, I am totally making fun of you until I hear details.”

“Pat!” Jonny says accusingly, but he’s blushing and Sidney is blushing and this is just _too good_.

“No, no, you both know about me, you have to tell me about you now.”

“Fine,” Jonny says pissily, before making eye contact with Sidney to get his approval. Sid nods minutely. “It was after we won gold, okay?”

“But,” Pat says, kind of confused, “Sidney - no offense, man - _actually recoiled from touching you_ after you won. There’s a gif and everything!”

“None taken,” Sidney mumbles, but then adds, “actually, that’s how it happened. I went to see Jonny and apologize for being weird about the hug, and it kind of snowballed from there.”

Pat’s eyes narrow, because there’s a lot of detail still missing. “Snowballed _how_?” And now both Sidney and Jonny are back to looking extremely uncomfortable and being silent and Pat is happy to wait them out forever, because this is going to be good.

“Well,” Jonny says, kind of in a rush, “after Sidney apologized to me, I apologized to him for making him uncomfortable.”

“And then _I_ ,” Sidney added, and Pat can tell the story is gaining momentum, “apologized for making him feel like he had done something wrong.”

“And then we both said sorry a few more times,” Jonny says, and Pat is stuck mouthing “a few more times” in awe. “But then we felt silly, so we stopped. And sort of looked at each other. And … started making out.”

Sid nods his approval of this, and Pat would comment, but he actually needs a second to stop being so stunned.

“Wait, so you’re telling me,” and Pat is speaking very slowly. He wants to make sure he gets this exactly right. “You’re telling me that the foreplay for the best sex Sidney Crosby has _ever had_ was _apologizing_?”

Both Sidney and Jonny have the self-awareness to look really embarrassed by that.

“Oh my god!” This will never stop being the best story Patrick has ever heard. “Oh my _god_ that is the most Canadian thing ever please tell me you ended up licking maple syrup off each other’s bodies or wearing Mountie outfits or came yelling ‘eh!’ or something, please please please.”

Sidney looks like he’s about to open his mouth to start filling in more details, but Jonny cuts him off, saying, “Hey, maybe we should order now!” with pointed glares at both of them. Pat figures he’s already pushed his luck enough, so he starts making small talk about power plays. He figures a discussion of something he and Jonny are objectively terrible at should put Sidney squarely back in his comfort zone.

* * *

After dinner, Jonny goes to get the car and Pat and Sid are left standing awkwardly on the sidewalk. Even though he has to know there’s no way Pat’s mad about the gold medal sex, Sid still seems really tense. 

“Hey,” Pat says before punching Sidney lightly on the arm. 

“Uh, hey.” Now Sid just looks like he expects Pat to deck him.

“Don’t be so worried,” Pat says in the calmest voice possible. “Jonny’s the best sex I’ve ever had too.” 

Sid seems a little surprised by that. “Really? But, I mean--”

That’s when Jonny pulls up and honks the horn, even though Pat’s _right there_. Dick. Pat turns to Sidney to wave goodbye and gives him a little wink. “Really. The best.” 

* * *

Jonny and Sidney aren’t really catch-up-on-the-phone-type friends, so Jonny’s particularly surprised when, a couple months after their dinner, Sidney calls while Jonny’s trying to figure out one of his mom’s recipes. Jonny puts him on speaker, mouths ‘Crosby’ to Patrick, and goes to rummage through the cabinets.

“Hey Sid, what’s up?”

“Hey Jonny,” and then Sidney is silent for a good ten seconds before asking, very quickly, “Are you and Patrick exclusive?”

Patrick’s eyebrows shoot up and he goes to stand by Jonny. “Um - ” is all Jonny can get out before Sidney continues.

“Because, I mean, uh, Geno - ”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Patrick starts, because that is some bullshit. “If Malkin’s mad that I slept with you, he needs to get over it. And if Malkin wants to sleep with me now, that’s bullshit, because he turned me down and I had to have sex with Ovie instead.”

Jonny turns to give Pat a disgusted glare while mouthing _Ovie_? In the background they can hear Malkin say, “See, I told you, Sid! Have taste.”

Pat is scowling, so Jonny jumps in to say, “What Pat _meant_ to say is yes, we’re exclusive. Why?”

“Oh,” Sid says quietly. “Um, because, actually. I mean, I know it’s weird, but Geno and I … haven’t, yet? And I told him about you, Jonny. And … ” The next pause is so long that Jonny checks to make sure he hasn’t been hung up on.

“And,” Sid finally continues with more confidence, “I thought maybe that, you know, you could sleep with him? To even the score?”

Jonny can’t actually form words, which is good, because Patrick starts giggling. 

“Oh my god, seriously? You want Jonny to bang Malkin so you’re _even_?” 

“It’s not that bad of an idea,” Sidney says, but in the background Malkin yells cheerfully, “Worst idea, Sid!” Patrick giggles some more.

“Uh...” is all Jonny has managed to say, so Patrick has to step in and be the adult. “Okay. Sid, Malkin - Geno? - this is actually the funniest thing ever. I think you broke Jonny’s programming, which is funny enough that I’m actually totally okay if he wants to do this.”

This seems to shock Jonny back to reality. “No! I mean, I’m flattered? But, no, thanks. No offense, uh, Geno.”

“No offense gotten!” yells Geno from the background. He sounds like he’s been giggling too.

“Aw,” Pat says. “But how will Geno learn how to properly bang a Canadian robot if he doesn’t have a practice model?”

“GOODBYE SIDNEY,” Jonny yells into the phone before hanging up.

Patrick looks like he’s knows he’s in trouble, but he is also laughing again, and Jonny is losing the ability to be mad.

“Don’t look so glum, Jonnybot,” Pat says while leaning forward to kiss Jonny’s cheek. “You’re about to lose your ‘Best Sex of Sidney Crosby’s Life’ title, but you’ll always be _my_ top Canadian. Unless Sharpy...”

“You are the worst decision I’ve ever made,” Jonny says, and he’s about to go off on all the terrible things Patrick’s done - just today! - but then Pat starts to make out with him, and Jonny decides to let him off the hook.


End file.
